The Time I Broke My Arm

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When I was 12 years old, I was invited to a birthday party. At the time, I was full with energy and an equal sense of invincibility. As pre-teen boys growing up in the age of mass production and toys galore, there was only one true recreational pastime; Nerf Wars. Inspired by many role-playing games such as Maplestory and Team Fortress 2, we divided ourselves into two teams and allocated roles to specific members. Some of these roles included a spy, a soldier, an assassin, and a sniper.

As the shortest team member and also the nimblest, I was selected to be the sniper.

"5...4...3...2...1...START!"

I rushed over to our arsenal. Although our perceptions of this battle were grand, our unfortunate reality of a 12th year birthday party only allowed a handful of arms to choose from. As a sniper, I naturally chose the scoped weapon. After checking for appropriate amounts of ammo, I scuttled off to my station; the pull up machine. I climbed the machine's seemingly unending body, and perched at the top, scouting for possible movements of any kind.

(As exhilarating as this must sound and look, keep in mind this clash was occurring in a 20x20 feet basement. Here's how it actually looked like:)

Anyways, the battle continued.

I persisted in scanning the battlefield with my sharp vision. Suddenly, I detected movement occurring behind one of the enemy forts (their sofa). I quickly brought up my sniper, aimed, and fired. According to the unspoken rules of war, once someone is hit, they must verbally declare their state of decease and lay on the floor where they were shot. Knowing these rules, I deduced that I had missed my shot. Cursing with the least amount of profanity, I readied my next bullet. As I was inserting my next round, a shot rang through the darkness.

The shot whizzed past my head. I had successfully dodged the assault. Because of my keen sense of alertness and the copious amounts of virtual military training I had received, I had instinctively ducked. Little did I know however, was that the structure I was residing in was unstable. My movement had caused ripples of shakes throughout the machine. Soon enough my balance failed me, and I was sent tumbling off the edge.

Thankfully, my shirt caught on one of the machine's many arms. Although this shielded much of the impact, it did not leave me unscathed. Imagine the scene in The Amazing Spider-Man 2 where Gwen dies from her fall (sorry about the spoilers). Similarly, while the rest of my body remained suspended in the air, my left arm struck the ground with unforgiving force. Pain shot up my arm, then immediately went numb as the adrenaline kicked in. Scrambling to find my footing, I felt a sharp poke on my forehead. I had been shot.

We eventually lost that fight. All of our comrades had been shot decisively, while we barely scratched their militia. Breaking character, I murmured to the man in charge, the birthday boy, about the pain in my arm. He confidently stated that I had simply bruised it, and pursued to offer me different forms of physical exercises to alleviate myself. I blindly believed him, and began to perform said exercises while 101 Dalmatians was playing.

Later that night, I was driven to the emergency room. I learned that I had broken my left arm apparently, and was advised to stay away from any form of strenuous physical activity. That night, I also learned the invaluable lesson of caution, and decided that I would never climb upon structurally unstable objects ever again without first wearing arm guards.

Samuel Oh

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please comment your opinions and reactions; any constructive criticism is welcomed. Thanks again!